Posted on 09/26/2009 3:23:18 PM PDT by nickcarraway
Tonight, Bert and Jayme Coates will bring their electronic gear to the Central Saloon and go down to its basement to begin hunting for ghosts.
When they pull up in their 1978 Chevy Step Van emblazoned with "Northwest Paranormal Investigation Agency," Bert and Jayme Coates inevitably get friendly greetings from people.
And why not?
A 2008 Harris Poll said 44 percent of Americans believe in ghosts.
That means somebody sitting right near you at the office is a believer, if it's not you.
Friendly greetings are what the Gold Bar couple got Friday afternoon, as they parked in front of Central Saloon (better known by its previous name Central Tavern, before it started serving hard liquor) in Pioneer Square.
Employees at the historic place, established in 1892, say they have experienced supernatural occurrences, and it wasn't by Seahawks fans after a game.
Tonight, the Coateses will bring their electronic gear to the Central and go down to its basement to hunt for ghosts.
On a screen outside the joint, they will project what their camcorders have picked up in the dark using infrared light.
Plenty of ghost stories surround a number of old Pioneer Square buildings.
At the Central, David Lewis does maintenance and is the "barback guy," who restocks all the booze in the mornings. He said he has had his share of ghostly experiences.
The tavern has a stage in the rear, and in the back of the stage is a stained-glass window to the alley.
"In the middle of the day, I watched the stage and saw something go across and block out the sunlight. But there was nobody there," Lewis said.
SNIP
Twenty-five years ago the hit movie "Ghostbusters" popularized tracking down apparitions. The movie still resonates.
(Excerpt) Read more at seattletimes.nwsource.com ...
Jayme Coates and husband Bert are ghost hunters and founders of Northwest Paranormal Investigation Agency. Their van is filled with tools of the trade such as flashlights, colored lamps to illuminate ghosts and a video camera with a spotlight they say helps brighten infrared imaging.
Bert and Jayme Coates, founders of Northwest Paranormal Investigation Agency, go downstairs Friday to check out the basement of Central Saloon in Pioneer Square.
the world is certifiably mad.
crazy like a fox. Play on peoples fears and beliefs to make a living. Sounds entrepenurial to me, in tough economic times. If they can make a living doing this in this depression, I want them on my marketing team LOL.
Why not hunt for elves and leprechauns while they’re at it? Sheesh...
Did she tell him about the Twinkie?
No, tpo go after them you have to be licensed.
We put up with idiots like these all the time. Practically in our yard, flash photography and horn honking and actually shooting at ghosts too sometimes. It’s unbelievable. The police aren’t able to do much, and there isn’t much that we can do that is legal. Although the ideas fly here at 1 AM when we can’t sleep because of the noise and lights!
Ghost Ping...
I don’t recall the article saying they charged for their services. Unless I missed something.
I don’t know that they do. I would just be stunned if people had the money to invest and do this stuff for free while trying to survive right now is all.
Interesting! Thanks for the ping CurlyBill! I look forward to your articles.
Ghost story time!
In 2003, I lived in an old house in New Orleans. The house had been built sometime in the early 1930’s, it was a shotgun double that I shared with my dad. I had always felt that there was something not right about the house. The house was in a “decent” part of a really bad neighborhood, basically right on the edge of certain blocks that you did not want to be in at anytime of day or night.
I had always feared criminals breaking and entering. I had two large dogs which is just about the best security you can buy for such neighborhoods, but still I feared coming home or waking up to intruders. I had gone to sleep one night, all was normal, nothing occurred during the night. Whenever the sun would come up, light would invade my room and usually wake me up around 6:30 am or so. The same occurred that morning, my room was light by the sun. My eyes opened, and I saw two figures standing next to each other at the foot of my bed.
The figures had on what I would describe as heavy parkas with hoods pulled over their heads. I could not see their faces. I thought oh s**t, there are intruders in my house, and instantly I was wide awake. Being that I am not the type of person to go down without a fight, I sprang from my bed and charged them. I recall throwing a punch at the figure on the right, and then throwing another punch at the figure on the left, and then nothing else.
Some period of time later, I awoke on the floor of the second room of my house. My bedroom was the third room, and it was separated from the second by the bathroom. I remember thinking to myself, “Why am I in this room?” I tried to get up, but I couldn’t, because my legs hurt very badly, so I crawled on my stomach to my bed and went back to sleep having no recollection of the events that I described.
I woke up around 10:00am, and I got out of bed to go and brush my teeth. At this time, I became aware again of pain in my legs, so I looked down at them. There were deep, black, narrow bruises on the insides of my thighs and calves on both legs. I had no idea how they got there. I didn’t think much of them at the time, and proceeded to finish my morning routine and prepared to leave.
As I walked toward the front door, I passed through the second room. I was surprised to notice that an end table that was formerly right next to the headboard of my bed was standing upside down vertically in the middle of the floor. I thought to myself..WTF? So, I went to pick it up. As soon as I touched the wrought iron legs of the table, I instantly remembered the two hooded figures from the night before, I remembered punching them, and I remembered crawling back to my bed with severe pain in my legs, but nothing else.
I asked my dad as well as my other neighbor if they had heard anything odd, and they both said that they heard a tremendous noise at around 7:00 am, but I did not tell them what happened.
The table was a marble top wrought iron legged type that I had received after my grandmother had passed away. There were various nic nacs on the table, such as these odd, little brass camels which were dated from the 1930’s. Some people whom I have told this story to suggest that I was dreaming, and that I picked up the table to use it as a weapon, and then stumbled over it thus bruising myself on the legs.
But I remember differently. When I saw them, I was instantly awake, and I had a massive adrenaline rush from fear. It wasn’t a dream at all. When I charged the figures, the table was then behind me near the headboard of the bed. I would have had to turn around to get it, and due to its weight, it would not have made a suitable weapon for me. What I believe happened is that I saw something while awakening from a sleep state that I wasn’t supposed to see. I theorize that when I hit these figures, they didn’t like it, and they used the table on me.
The bruises on my legs lasted for more than a month, and I still have no recollection of what happened to me from the time I threw my second punch until the time I awoke on the floor of the second room. I have wondered what could happen if I was hypnotized and asked about this event, but I cannot be hypnotized for some reason.
Ghosts exist. This is not the only event that occurred to me in the house in New Orleans. If anyone would like to hear more, just let me know.
Can you pass the s’mores?
Great story! I have one too, but I have to take the time to type it out. How’d you do that so fast?!
hehe *passes* :)
Heh, I don’t know. I have told this story many times since it is one of the strangest things that has ever happened to me, so I am pretty familiar with it.
Then, after I change my underwear, we'll discuss the implications of the experience. 
there you are - been missing you!
Here’s mine:
My husband works for a bank in our town. Their headquarters is across the street in the old county courthouse (built 1871). A co-worker of my husband’s works in the old courthouse. He was the one this happened to.
This man, I’ll call him Rick, was working late. His office is at the end of the hallway. Across from his office is the bank president’s office. Since it was after hours, nobody else was in the building. Rick had to use the bathroom. He opted to use the bathroom in the bank president’s office. (a definite NO NO!). since it was right across from his office.
Having “done his business“, he left the bathroom, to be confronted with a woman dressed in 19th century garb, standing and looking out the window. He hi-tailed it back into the bathroom and cowered there for 15 minutes. Knowing he couldn’t stay in the bathroom all night, Rick opened the door and took off running, covering his face on the side where the lady was.
To this day, his eyes get teary and he gets nervous even talking about it! Only my husband and a few other people at the bank know about this.
good one.
Someone has requested that I tell another story, so here goes. This one is a bit more personal than the last.
This occurred in the same shotgun house in New Orleans that I shared with my dad. He lived on one side, and I lived on the other. One night I was falling asleep on the sofa in the living room at about 1:00 am. I wasn’t quite asleep yet, I was just resting on my side facing the back rest of the sofa. I became aware that something was in the room with me, something very powerful and very fearful. Even though I could not see it, I was aware that it was walking over to me. I could not move at all, I was absolutely paralyzed with fear.
Whatever it was in the room with me stood right next to me as I lay on the sofa. Its presence was so powerful that it seemed to push the air away from me. I had tremendous difficulty breathing. I am not sure how long it stood there, but at some point I realized that it was no longer there, and I fell asleep. I woke up the next day remembering what happened, but I did not know what to make of it really. But this would not be the end of the story sadly.
I went to sleep the next night around 2:00 am or so, nothing eventful had happened since the night before. I awoke around 8:00 am to the sound of someone beating on my front door. I went to answer it, and it was my grandmother (my dad’s mom). She said, “Mr. Conrad (across the street neighbor)called me and said that your dad was taken away in an ambulance at 5:00 am this morning.” I said, “Well, Maw Maw, did Ernest (my dad) call you yet?” She said’ “No.” It was at this point that I knew he was gone, but she didn’t seem to realize that yet.
We went to Mercy hospital which was where the ambulance had taken him. We were greeted by the grief counselor at this point. My grandma didn’t seem to understand yet as she kept asking where is her son and is he okay. I felt like I was going to pass out. They took us to his room where he lay dead. He was still hooked up to the devices that they tried to save him with. We both broke down.
About a week later, my grandma and I were inside his side of the shotgun house arranging things and just trying to get stuff in order when she said, “Chris, come here.” I went over to her where she was sitting at his desk. She had found something.
My dad was a very troubled man. At some point in his life he became lost. He had done many bad things that I won’t describe here, except to say that he had been a heavy drug and alcohol user for a long period in his life. He quit about two years before his death, but he suffered memory problems as a result of this abuse. In order to compensate for this, he often wrote down every important date, appointments, and phone numbers in calendars so that he would not forget.
She had found a calendar on his desk under some other papers. There was no entry anywhere on this calendar except for one. On the box of October third was the message “5:15 am DieD”. It was written in sharpie marker, but no sharpie marker could be found on the desk. She asked me if I wrote this, and I told her ,”No, it’s not my hand writing.” I looked around on his desk and found another note that had been written previously. It contained the word “DiD”. The reason I capitalize the D’s is because his D’s were absolutely uniquely written, and it was clear that he had written the note in the calendar at this point.
The problem is he died in the ambulance on the way to Mercy hospital. The time on his death certificate was 5:15 am. He was not in his house at 5:15 am...I thought maybe he wrote this as he left, but I can’t see ambulance attendees allowing a man in the throws of a fatal heart attack to stop and sit at his desk, thumb through a calendar to the exact date and write this prophetic message while he was still alive.
I still have this calendar, and when I look at this message, I know that it was written by him after he died. I don’t have an explanation as to how. My dad died of a massive heart attack about 27 hours after I was visited in my living room by a very powerful entity. I am not going to speculate as to what that was, because my dad and I look exactly alike and lived right across the wall from each other.
That’s a very interesting story. I believe that it really takes something to scare a man. I know that I do not scare easily, but that which is unknown scares the hell out of me.
It’s also interesting how he get’s teary and nervous as he relates the story. When I tell my stories, even when I just wrote them for this forum, I sweat profusely, despite the fact that it is 69 degrees in my house right now. It seems to be a spontaneous physiological reaction on my part.
I heard a news story informing us that a class in this “vocation” would be held at our local tech school. The last class will be on Oct 31, so they might practice what they have learned. I wanted to go just to see who would go. You must be at least 16 to sign up.
I heard a news story informing us that a class in this “vocation” would be held at our local tech school. The last class will be on Oct 31, so they might practice what they have learned. I wanted to go just to see who would go. You must be at least 16 to sign up.
bttt
I've had them. It really is a terrifying thing, not being able to tell a bad dream from reality, and you do feel quite awake, hence the "lucid" in lucid dream.
The first one I recall was from late childhood, age ten, eleven or so. Something was in my bedroom. Couldn't see anything distinct, but man oh man did I ever feel it, sense it. I couldn't move. The bedcovers began to be lifted up at the foot of my bed, could see where something was holding it in two places about where hands should have been but nothing was there, and the bedcovers continued to rise. I still couldn't move, and felt like I'd pass out from hyperventilating.
That's all I remember.
Wow, that is really scary. Gives me chills just to read it.
The thing that gets me about my experience is that I am certain I had not fallen asleep yet. I recall that I had just laid down on the sofa, and within one to two minutes the event occurred. But, of course, I cannot be certain, because sometimes sleep just overtakes us very quickly.
But I remember my eyes being wide open, like pegged open. I couldn’t look at it, because I couldn’t turn my head at all. I know it stood right next to me, I could feel it right there, couldn’t breathe because there was no air.
I think whatever it was took my dad the very next day.
I don’t drink at all, sir. That was my dad’s specialty.
For $100.00 a night I will sit in front of your closet with my patented "Boogie-be-gone" whacking stick.
My son took a ‘class’ like that. He said it was cool - until they started using ‘crystals’ and mediums and such. He was looking for something more scientific. He lost interest after that.
A few years ago, Mrs. Othniel was involved in a ministry with some people from church where people with deep-seated issues were prayed for. (I helped out now and then, but she did more.) Sometimes, it was something that the person wanted to get rid of, like chronic lust, or anger, but never seemed to be able to be shaken. In probing their past, there was invariably some kind of experience that opened a door for demonic oppression. Note: not possession, but oppression. The devil wasn't living inside your house, but he would ride his bike every so often and heave big rocks at your window. When the root cause was discovered, it was confessed, renounced, and the demon bound and cast out. The latter part was often accompanied by shouts, vomit, cursing, and, once, broken furniture.
Anyway, one night, as I was drifting off to sleep, my eyes opened. There, beside the bed on the other side of my wife, was a figure. It was dressed in jeans and a shirt, and it had blonde, stringy hair. The face was blood red, and it looked like it was melting. It had a woman's shape, though kinda dumpy. I felt malice from it. It regarded my wife for a few seconds, then, with a snarling look on its face, kicked my wife. Mrs. Othniel immediately jerked violently in bed and moaned, like she was in pain. After it did that, the thing vanished. I woke her up, and we prayed about it, asking the Lord to cover us both, and our sons as well. I saw a few wierd things after that, once when I was fully awake, but nothing like what I saw that night. I'm convinced it was a demon of some kind, sent to bother my wife for interfering in Scratch's work.
http://bmovies.blogspot.com/2006/10/my-personal-ghost-story.html
He has a ghostwriter.
***rimshot***
LOL! Good one!
Haunting spirits.
If this is in my closet...
...I'll have to pass on your offer, thanks!
(Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada.)
Because ghosts aren't real.
I was driving home from a bible study late one night and singing Christmas songs along with the radio.....and I heard a voice in my head say “car into tree”.......I looked around and saw no such thing and only a truck behind me.......by the time I reached my exit a mere mile down the road I was shaking and scared......I stopped at the stop sign and looked west down the highway I had just exited.....my anxiety increased...I got home safe and sound and shook off the incident. About an hour later a car with two young girls hit a tree and one died.......right where I was looking.
A month or so later I was heading out to church and kept getting anxious and shaky when I moved toward the door. I stayed home that night. Another accident happened about a mile as the crow flies on a road very near the last fatal accident. A car hit a tree and embedded the license plate into it...with another fatality.
I used some serous spiritual warfare prayers to rid the area of the spirit of suicide by car. Both cars had just left the highway and went straight for trees. No more fatal accidents involving cars into trees around here since. Praise God.
Hey! Easy now!
Yous all leave dem ‘ol lepreecahnz to me, ya hea?
Thanks for the ping. Been missing you.
Great stories tonight!
So...you get the leprechauns and I get the elves?
Works for me.
If you had that I am pretty sure that you would not have her in the closet!
Sounds like the ghosts kicked your butt.
Spengler: "Well, let's say this twinkie (pauses to pick up twinkie) represents the normal amount of psychokinetc energy in the New York area. According to this morning's sample, it would be a twinkie (draws big breath) thirty-five feet long, weighing approximately six hundred pounds."
(Stantz coughs.)
Zeddemore: "That's a big twinkie."
To me, figuring out wimmin wouldn't seem like such a big shift.
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